


Raise Hell

by sergeant_angel



Category: Daredevil (TV), Hawkeye (Comics), Young Avengers
Genre: F/M, Gen, and accidentally winds up working for these dumb avocados, eli is trying to have a normal life, foggy is always #beermestrength, karen isn't in this for very long but she is as always a goddess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-28
Updated: 2016-03-28
Packaged: 2018-05-29 15:50:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6382819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sergeant_angel/pseuds/sergeant_angel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eli is trying to be a Regular Person™ but it's hard when your ex and one of your bosses are constantly and consistently human disasters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Raise Hell

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Reallife](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reallife/gifts).



> So happy belated birthday to awkwardnormalcy aka my trash enabler aka the person who looks at the stuff I think is awful or just plain weird and goes NO GIVE ME MORE  
> and also shows me things like
> 
>  
> 
> [this ](http://avengingdefenders.tumblr.com/post/139245076905/juuohshark-hi-im-matt-murdock-and-welcome-to)
> 
>  
> 
> which in turn inspires headcanon and fic
> 
> This has not been proofread or beta'ed in any way, shape or form.

Matt doesn't make it a habit to eavesdrop on the people he works with, but he doesn't really care to listen to Foggy and Marci's phone conversation. He knows it's not much better to listen to his intern's conversation, but it is more interesting.

“I haven’t been back here since,” Matt can hear the woman shrug. “Since. That’s how much I like you, Eli.”

“I’m touched,” Eli’s response is dry. “Really.”

“Sure mom’s disappointed,” she continues, hesitant.

“Oh, yeah,” Eli balls up a napkin. “I’m sure your mother is appalled at you. Why aren’t you doing more for the world? Jeez. Lazy.”

“Asshole,” there’s no venom in the words as she throws a straw wrapper at him.

“I aim to please. How long are you in town, anyway?”

“Six months, ish.”

“Wow. Are you in time-out?”

“Six months required medical leave. So stupid.”

“Six months? Jesus. How many?”

“How many what?”

“Concussions, Kate. How many concussions did you get that prompted that?”

“I don’t know. A few.”

“I know you think you’re being funny, but since it’s concussions you’re pretending not to remember it’s not.”

“Don’t worry about it. They’re just worrywarts, okay? They’re down a Clint so they’re making sure they don’t kill me.”

“Please,” Eli slurps the dregs of a soda. “Like anyone could kill you.”

“Aww. Eli! That was almost nice!”

Eli sighs. “So what do you think of the Daredevil, then?”

“It’s not you?”

Eli laughs. “Dude’s white.”

“Well, you never know. I mean, I can appreciate the idea, you know? I mostly wonder who he really is. If it wasn’t Hell’s Kitchen, I’d say it was some rich guy Bruce Wayne-ing it up, but it _is_ Hell’s Kitchen, so.”

“Bruce Wayne?”

“Oh, you never met him, did you? Like Tony Stark. But with secrecy.”

“Okay, I’m detecting some really ironic amounts of disdain from you.”

“He was all gadget-y. Anybody can be cool with gadgets.”

“Right,” Eli sighs. “What’s with the scarf, anyway? That’s some straight-up vintage KB right there.”

By this time, Matt and Foggy have reached the office.

“Hey, Bradley,” Foggy bangs through the door, “Thanks for holding down the fort—hello, Miss?”

Eli stands and the young woman hastily takes her feet off of the desk.

“Kate, this is Foggy Nelson—that’s Matt Murdock. They are my bosses. Guys, this is Kate, she’s an old friend.”

Kate shakes Foggy’s hand; Matt holds his hand out to her and her grip is firm, calluses on her fingers and a healing scratch across her knuckles at odds with silk blouse whispering across her skin.

“Pleasure to meet you,” she says, the tone of her voice changing—not quite more professional, but decidedly less casual.

“I’m sorry—Kate _Bishop_?” Foggy seems—agog or aghast, Matt isn’t sure which.

“Yes?”

“Socialite partygirl Kate Bishop? Did you need a lawyer?”

The room falls silent. Matt knows Foggy didn’t mean to be insulting, but Kate Bishop does seem like the kind of client it would be financially beneficial to have.

Eli clears his throat, and Kate bursts out laughing.

“If I did I’d pick Eli, sorry,” she says with a shake of her head. “He knows more of my garbage, it’s just easier that way.”

“Please, I maybe know a third of your garbage.” Eli interjects.

“The only person who knows more than a third of my garbage is Clint, and that’s because he _is_ a third of my garbage.” She sighs. “I still can’t believe you’re going to be a _lawyer_.”

“One of us had to be normal,” Eli cleans up the detritus from their lunch. “Thanks for food.”

“Any time,” she responds, slipping into her shoes. “And now I won’t feel bad if I have to call you for legal advice. You should definitely make him a partner,” she addresses Matt and Foggy now. “If you do, I can guarantee six clients. Maybe triple that.”

“Triple?” Eli doesn’t sound convinced.

“Okay, double,” she hedges. “I’m pretty sure Steve should have a lawyer on retainer. Clint does. I’ll get out of your hair. Gentlemen, nice to meet you; Eli, call me about hanging out. You know Billy and Teddy would love to see you.”

She shifts, and Matt suddenly knows why she’s wearing the scarf.

“Ms. Bishop, mind if I walk down with you? I think I dropped my wallet.”

“Sure,” her shoulders pop up in a quick shrug, the scarf shifting across the ring of bruises that encircle her neck.

“How long have you known Eli?” Matt makes small talk as they go down the stairs.

“Since high school.” She offers nothing more until they reach the sidewalk. “So, did you actually drop your wallet, or is this the part where you discreetly slip me your card and tell me to call if I ever wind up in a drunk tank?”

She doesn’t sound upset, more resigned. Matt imagines being an heiress with her reputation probably does net her quite a few eager lawyers.

“Are you sure you’re all right?” he sidesteps the question. “You seem a little—nervous.”

“I seem nervous?” her voice lilts up in disbelief. “Uh. No. But thank you?”

“Ms. Bishop, let me be frank. If someone is trying to hurt you, we can help.”

Her heart races for a second before she takes a breath, presumably to calm herself. “Thank you for your concern, Mr. Murdock? Was it? But I’m fine. I’ll make sure to call you when I get my next drunk and disorderly.”

And with that, she turns on her heel, and leaves.

* * *

“Daredevil, right?” says a voice that Matt thinks he should know. “Can you tell the cops to get back?”

“I think they should—is that a bomb?”

“Ding-ding-ding!”

“So we should call the bomb squad—“

“Not enough time, Daredevil—demon-y—there’s just no way to shorten that to make it more manageable, is there?”

“Is there anything I can do?” He crouches next to her.

“Leave? So that way if I mess up I’m the only smear on the floor. I _won’t_ mess up, but one should always be cautious.”

Now that he’s closer, he can sense the heat coming off slivers of skin at her neck and wrists. She’s not colder than everyone else; she’s not even slowing her heart, like Nobu did—there must be some biometrics in her suit, or biometric countermeasures.

“Nice suit,” he says offhandedly.

“You’re one to talk,” she shoots back. “If you’re going to stay here, hand me the wire cutters next to your left knee—thank you.”

One of the unconscious goons rises, lumbering towards them; Matt grabs the wrench on his other side and flings it at the man’s head.

“Nicely done,” she sounds impressed and maybe a little amused. “You know, maybe—shit!”

“Please don’t swear when you have your hands in a bom—“

“Futzing _Hammer_ tech, guy, come here _now_.”

Matt slides closer.

“Hands. Take the wires I’m holding. _Do not let them touch._ ”

Matt takes over for her, his hands exactly where hers were. “Do I even want-?”

“No, no you do not,” she cuts him off, stripping more wires. “Okay, just—“

Matt can hear a group of men approaching. Four, so not that many, but not cops. _One_ of them fucked up, but now doesn't seem the appropriate time to try and figure out _which_ one of them it was.

“We’re going to have company,” he tells her. “Twenty seconds, maybe.”

“That’s fine,” she says. “If we don’t fix this in fifteen seconds we’re all dead anyway. I’m going to give you two more wires, and when I tell you to, I need you to connect the ones on each side. So left to left and right to right. Got it?”

“Wait—“ she’s already slipping wires between his fingers, spinning to the other side of the device. “We’re going to short out the system,” she takes a deep breath. “And— _now!_ ”

Matt touches the exposed ends of the wires to each other while she pulls something away from the bomb’s casing.

“Oh, good, that worked.”

“ _What_?”

She doesn’t get a chance to answer because the men Matt heard have finally arrived. The woman tucks whatever part of the bomb she has into a long bag of some sort and picks something up from the floor—Matt hadn’t even registered it, thought it was a stick—

But it’s not, it’s a bow, and she shoots one of their approaching attackers in the knee.

* * *

“Oh, Jesus,” Mahoney sighs as they approach. “Now there’s two of you?”

“You’re going to want to call in the feds to handle this,” the woman offers Brett the part of the bomb she’d grabbed.

“Who are you supposed to be?”

“I’m nobody,” she puts her hands up and backs away. “I’m on vacation.”

And with that, she disappears.

Or, well, Matt assumes she tries to. This is his city, so cutting across her path is easy, though he does wind up with an arrow aimed at him for his trouble.

“Jeez, Daredevil-fella—“ she wrinkles her nose in distaste. “Nope, that doesn’t work either. “Did you want to end this evening shot?”

“Just trying to figure you out.”

“I’m a concerned citizen.”

“I don’t think most concerned citizens know how disarm bombs.”

“I said citizen, not civilian.”

“Well-played,” he grins at her, the effect of which is probably mitigated somewhat by the blood on his face.

“Can I go now? Or are you going to stalk me all the way home?”

“Not stalking. Just wanted to let you know that if you’re in town for a while, I wouldn’t mind working with you again.”

“Oh. Thanks,” she seems taken aback. “That could be fun.”

“Fun?”

“Yeah, like tonight was. I’m not shot, which means it was fun. That’s how fun works, right?”

* * *

“So,” Foggy says the next morning over the coffeemaker. “Brett was telling me Daredevil made a friend last night. Some chick in a crazy purple outfit.”

Eli cracks his cup against the side of the counter. “Purple?”

“Yeah. Purple. Diffused some kind of anti-matter bomb—or—some kind of bomb.”

“Did he actually say ‘some chick’?” Eli seems to be over his momentary surprise and simply sounds resigned.

“Yeah, why?”

“No reason,” Eli says after a slightly too-long pause. “Just—nevermind.”

“What was that about?” Foggy mutters once their intern has gone back to his desk.

“I have no idea,” Matt says, though he might.

* * *

Matt comes across Crazy Purple Chick (as Foggy is calling her) three days later, in the back of a semi that Matt is tied up in.

“Did you need help?” She asks. “Or were you good.”

Matt slides his wrists out of his poorly tied bonds. “I’ve got it.”

“Awesome. I’m thinking we break out of here in this car, yeah?” she runs her hand over the roof of one of the vehicles in the truck.

“No keys.”

“Oh. That’s cute.”

She’s hotwired the car and they’re preparing to break out of a moving truck in another vehicle when she turns to him.

“Just so you know, there’s a volatile chemical called Centipede somewhere in this vehicle, so crashing is a bad idea.”

“What do I call you?”

She turns to him, and he can practically feel her smile.

“Hawkeye.”

And then she slams it into reverse. Twenty seconds later, she swears.

“Take the wheel!”

“What?”

“Take the wheel. They’re getting ready to start shooting at us. And unless you’ve got some sort of ranged weapon hiding in your suit--?”

Matt shakes his head.

“Okay. Wheel first, then pedals.”

His hands take the place of hers on the steering wheel (ten and two, he knows that), then he’s throwing his leg over the center console, taking her place on the gas (flooring it for a brief second as he moves his other leg over) and then he’s driving, one of Hawkeye’s feet wedged under his thigh and his elbow hooked around her other knee to stabilize her as she leans out the window and starts shooting.

It works pretty well until one of their tires gets blown out.

* * *

“Holy shit,” she gasps, doubled over. “Did you learn how to drive from a Latverian taxi driver? Holy lord.”

“We’re alive, aren’t we?” he leans against the car.

“Point,” Hawkeye concedes, before pressing him harder up against the car and kissing him.

* * *

Matt is late to work the next day in an attempt to avoid Foggy.

“Is your phone dead?” his partner says the minute Matt walks in the door. “If you hadn’t been acting like an irresponsible idiot, you would have been here for fresh donuts.”

“I can go out and get more,” something about that voice—where has he heard it?

“That’s it,” Eli snaps. “I’m cutting you off,” and he tugs a mug out of the woman’s hands.

Kate Bishop, then.

“Eli!” Karen chides.

Kate just laughs at him. She seems bubbly, hyper. Matt’s not sure if incandescent is an appropriate word to use in this situation, but he thinks it might be.

“Stay here, Kate,” Karen urges. “If Matt’s late, he can suck it up.”

“I’m sure Matt has a good reason for being late,” Foggy says loudly. “I’m sure it’s nothing unreasonable or stupid or dangerous. He probably just overslept, and we shouldn’t punish him for that.”

Karen clears her throat. “Um. Anyway. You like MASH, Kate?”

“What?”

“Your shirt.”

Eli heaves a long suffering sigh.

“Oh, yeah. You?”

“My dad and I used to watch it all the time,” Karen says fondly. “Klinger is my favorite.”

“Benjamin Franklin Pierce is life goals,” Kate leans back in a chair.

Matt can hear Eli grinding his teeth.

“Who _doesn’t_ love Hawkeye?” Foggy adds and that’s when it clicks. He sits with a thump.

“You okay, Mr. Murdock?” Kate— _Hawkeye—_ asks.

“Fine,” he manages.

“Okay.” She leans further back—and then further—and he can hear her heart beat a little faster and the sharp intake of breath right before she topples over backwards.

“Are you okay?” Matt and Foggy move to Kate’s side.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” she brushes them off. “I’m fine. Just spaced out.”

“Is that a hickey?” Foggy suddenly says, just loud enough for Matt to hear. “Is that why you were late?”

Matt ignores him, wrapping his hand around Kate’s elbow and hauling her to her feet.

“So,” she says, lips barely brushing his ear. “I’m guessing you _didn’t_ learn how to drive from a Latverian cabbie?” And with that, she starts laughing.

**Author's Note:**

> I now kind of love the idea of Eli wanting to be a lawyer and interning for Matt and Foggy and it's this sort of joke that they should make him a partner because he'll bring in paying clients and then they realize OH SHIT HE WASN'T JOKING and now half of the Avengers are their clients.  
> Kate is working for SHIELD (ish) and does indeed Bruce Wayne it up by pretending to party all night and sleep all day.


End file.
